


Prima Nocta

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Knight [11]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:20:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6216052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe keeps treating Kylo like he's fragile, but Kylo wants a whole hell of a lot more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prima Nocta

Kylo doesn’t really remember much about his sex-ed. There was some, that much is certain. A long, **long** time ago. If his recall is correct, it involved a lot of subtle messages from his father, some innuendo that went right over his head, and then some holo-pamphlets about various ways to keep yourself safe, what counted as consent, how to stop your partner getting pregnant, ways to please other species without offending their cultural sensibilities, and then finally precautions against cross-species organ-rotting. There was something about one race, wasn’t there? That if you stuck bits of you in them, or vice versa, your bits would erode and drop off?

Or was that just the playground scuttlebutt? 

The fact that he can’t remember if there’s a place his dick might drop off if he puts it is somewhat telling as to how well those lessons went. He’s certain there’s nothing about _Poe_ that could lead to a serious, debilitating injury to his groin. Not unless you count dick-strain from getting **hard** and then **off** too often. 

That’s another thing he really needs to look into. How many times is enough? Is there such a thing as _too much_? Is there any etiquette about making sure your partner is up for potential advances? Like a pre-advance? A long-distance sex-radar? How do you know if you’re not wearing them out unpleasantly so? Or if they’re just doing it (you) so often not to hurt your feelings?

These are all things that the holo-pamphlets should really have handled. It isn’t as if he can ask any of his family for advice, and it isn’t as if he knows what to search on the holo-net, either. 

_How many times can I ask my boyfriend to touch my dick in a day without it being rude?_

Or, for that matter, _without it falling off?_

So far, Poe’s been really gentle with him, which he appreciates immensely. Well. After the first time. 

The first time had been a whirlwind of yelling and emotions and then - somehow, he can’t remember how - **kissing**. One minute they’d been hurling recriminations and mourning past failures, and yelling (still angrily) about how much they’d missed one another and how stupid the other was, and then there’d been some sort of - psychotic snap? Or? 

???

One minute it had just been yelling, and the next there’d been hands on shirts and mouths on mouths. And kisses so fierce that Kylo felt them tingle on his lips for _days_. Still does, sometimes, at the memory. Hands in hair and shoulders slammed into walls and more kissing and words between the kissing and then they’d wound up on a couch and he’s sure Poe asked him about twelve times if it was okay, and he’d insisted it was, and it was.

It was.

It was great.

Poe really knows what to do with his hand, and Kylo embarrassed himself by coming way too fast when the pilot shoved his hand in his pants and jerked him off. Aside from days he couldn’t make his morning wood vanish with a cold shower, Kylo had always treated his erections as something to be dealt with as quickly and painlessly as possible. So then a Poe - lips stained from kisses and bites - pinning him down and bringing him off with his right hand? He’d howled, bucked, thrashed… and made a mess all over Poe’s shirt, and then awkwardly returned the favour. He hadn’t known well what he was doing, but he’d done it all the same. Poe had seemed to enjoy it, if the panting and breathless moans of his name held any indication. Poe had gotten off, and then they’d lain together for a while, and the shouting…

…the shouting happened less often. It was more very intense talking. They still talk very intensely, and Kylo… Kylo is happy with the change. Incredibly happy. He’s not sure it’s a normal path to dating, but it’s their path, and that’s all that matters. After all, they knew one another well back in the day, so its not like they’re complete strangers. And the Resistance’s Best Pilot, and the First Order’s Turncoat Dark Jedi… their public lives haven’t been hidden from anyone in a long time.

But Poe takes things gently with him, now. They whispered secrets in the dark, and Kylo confessed - more fool him - that… that… even mentally thinking the word _virgin_ was difficult. But he had been. And maybe he still is, because all they’d done was kiss and stroke and touch and lick. One time, Poe had got him to lie down and he’d spooned in behind him. Kylo had tensed, not sure what was going on, as Poe parted his legs gently, and then slipped his cock between them. Always soothing, always kissing, stroking… and then he’d fucked between Kylo’s clamped-shut thighs, his cock stroking over Kylo’s own, and his balls, and it had been the most maddening experience of his whole life.

Kylo nearly begged him, then and there, to just - to _do it_. Because it felt like it was cheating, doing that instead. It felt damn nice, but it was - it wasn’t - _in him_. It was against him. And he’d felt weirdly both utterly calm and terrifyingly vulnerable and reassuringly safe and fractiously horny with Poe behind him. 

Poe, who was almost a foot shorter. And who likely had been having sex since the day he was legal, because with a face like that…? If he wanted anything, he could have it. Kylo is sure. He could have it. And he still can’t bring himself to ask, because it’s impolite. Impolite, and he thinks he might just lock himself in a room and never, ever, ever leave if he finds out the truth about Poe’s past. And - just - 

His shorter boyfriend, wrapped around him, nose against the nape of his neck and legs bent behind his and the steady, slow rocking that made him want _more_ , and he didn’t know why he felt the craving for Poe inside of him, but he did. He **does**. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since that night, and no matter how many subtle hints he drops, Poe just hasn’t fucked him.

Kylo wonders if maybe Poe doesn’t want to. He tried to make it obvious by jumping on his lap, on the couch, and grinding. But Poe had kissed him and combed fingers through his hair, and then stroked him off. And even the lift and drop of his ass onto his lap hadn’t been a give-away. 

So he’s done his research. He’s tired of being - of being just - it’s not like the stroking and the licking and the grinding isn’t _nice_ , it’s just - he doesn’t… he doesn’t want to be a **virgin** , okay? He doesn’t. He’s thirty-one, and although he’s climaxed (many, many times) with the assistance of someone else, he hasn’t put his dick in anything but a hand or a mouth, and the nearest thing to a cock inside of him (again, other than slurpy lickings) has been a fly-by or a bit of grinding. And it sucks. No pun intended, it _sucks_.

Kylo isn’t sure if he’s - uh - a ‘top’ or a ‘bottom’. He doesn’t know if you have to try both out, to make sure. He also doesn’t know what Poe is, but he wants to find out, and he’s still too damn shy to even mention the word ‘penetration’, even though it’s a perfectly clinical word. It just - it feels _filthy_. Like **stimulation**. He even gets a little hard from the vocabulary, and that’s probably not normal, either, is it? 

But Kylo read that you need to be careful when engaging in anal intercourse, and as such, he thinks it’s probably best if Poe does it to him, first. Because he can take more of a beating, if it comes to it. If Poe accidentally injures him, he won’t mind so much. If he hurt _Poe_ , it would be the end of the world. Or, it would feel like it. And then, if it goes okay, and Poe wants him to ‘top’ him? Then they can try it, right?

All of this is very sensible and thought out and wonderfully logical and Kylo Ren is the biggest coward the galaxy has ever seen. He’s bought lube, for Force’s sake. Lube. The kind that the ‘net recommends as the best for this particular thing. It’s sitting in his pocket, warming against his thigh. The treacherous, rigid tube making a mockery of his strength of character, of willpower. He wants Poe to fuck him, and he’s too ashamed to ask.

Why? Why can’t he just say what he wants? Why is he blushing like mad at the very thought of it? And why can’t he get the image out of his head? 

He keeps thinking about it. About how Poe would do it. Would he spoon up behind him again, like a jetpack? Would he grip his hip and rock them back and forth? Or would he bend Kylo over the foot of the bed, feet braced, hands on the back of his own head, as he rides his ass? Or get him on all fours? (Would that even work, or is he too tall?) Lie him on his back and push his knees up towards his shoulders? Look him in the eye, or bite him on the neck, or, or, or?

Kylo had tried pushing a finger into himself, in the ‘fresher. Warm water, no lube, and he’d got as far as sliding his finger between his cheeks before he’d baulked. No. It should be Poe who did it. He shouldn’t half-lose his virginity, not again. Shouldn’t pleasure himself alone. 

And Poe… Poe needs to stop treating him like he’s _fragile_. Just because he doesn’t know tricks, techniques, terms… it doesn’t mean he’ll **shatter** if he kisses him too hard. And if he does - so what? It might be nice to break apart.

He’s pacing around in front of Poe’s door, waiting for the answer, cursing him internally for being too _good_ and **kind** and _sweet_ and NOT. FUCKING HIM.

By the time the door opens, Kylo’s in such a whirlwind of confusion that he grabs Poe’s shirt, kisses him with bites so hard he almost draws blood, and he backs Poe up against the nearest wall.

Poe, for his part, reciprocates. Their kisses get messier, and fingers claw over fabric and hair and skin and there’s moaning and at some point knees slip between legs and they’re both slowly rutting, and Kylo _needs this so very, very, very badly and wasn’t he supposed to ask rationally and–_

He grabs Poe’s hand, and shoves it in his pocket. Shoves it in, and then pulls back to watch his face when he retrieves the little tube. Just a small thing, but it says - asks - demands - pleads - _communicates_ \- so much. So much more than Kylo is brave enough to voice aloud. 

He wants this. He wants Poe. He wants Poe inside of him, and he’s only very reluctantly going to take ‘no’ for an answer. Because he still remembers the _consent_ part of the holos, if not the dick-rot part. 

“Kylo… you sure?” Poe asks, once he’s read the label.  


“If you are,” he tells him. And now they can talk about it - at least a little. “I want to. If you do. I…”   


“If you’re ready.”  


“I’ve been ready for weeks,” Kylo complains, and can’t stop the pout from spreading his lower lip out. “I want… I want to do everything, Poe. And… and I trust you. And I… I…” Say it, say it, say **it**. “…want… to know… what it feels like with you…” SAY. IT. REN. “…inside me.”  


Poe’s eyes widen. “You _sure_? I didn’t want to… pressure you.”

“ **Please** , pressure me,” Kylo says, half-laugh, half-plea. “I want this. I want **you**. And I’m not afraid. I… I want _you_ , Poe. However you want me. If… if you don’t want to… want to fuck me then I–”  


A finger and thumb catch his chin, and he’s made to meet Poe’s eyes. “I’d love to fuck you, Kylo. I’d love nothing more.”

“…so you… don’t… object to, uh, ‘topping’?” He’s never said it aloud, just inside his head.  


“I pretty much love whatever, Kylo. I won’t lie, I’ve thought about it a lot. And about you fucking _me_. I just…”  


“Didn’t want to rush me?”  


Poe nods.

“Well… you’re not. I mean. I’m glad you worry about me, but I… I trust you. And I…” He doesn’t say it often. He feels flushed whenever he does. “I… love you. And I… really, _really_ want to feel what it feels like. Every which way.”   


Poe’s smile goes _supernova_. No, **BIG BANG**. It’s everything good and Light and beautiful and Kylo’s knees want to give and he just wants to do whatever it takes to keep Poe looking so happy. He’s fairly sure it’s the l-word, and not the ‘but put your dick in me now’ part of it, but it’s all one big, bundled thing.

Kylo wants Poe inside of him. Like… not just physically. Emotionally. He wants it, because he thinks it will make them closer. Because he _wants_ to be closer. As close as they can be. And maybe it’s just a physiological trick, a fortunate intersection of parts, a way for them to meet in the middle, but it… it feels like more. To him. To give himself away, when he’d kept himself locked up for so very, very long. It’s special to him, and he knows - from how Poe’s been so damn respectful of his boundaries - that Poe understands just _how_ special it is.

But he’s waited, and he’s wanted, and he’s craved and hungered and dreamed and now it’s time to _do_. Poe’s fingers around the tube, and he cocks his head towards his bedroom. Kylo’s been inside before - several times, now - but this feels **more**. It feels bigger. It feels better. He finds one of his hands is caught up by Poe’s as they walk through, and his legs shake just a little. Poe puts the lube on the bedside table, and pushes Kylo down onto the bed. Kylo sits on the edge, and is surprised when Poe straddles his lap. 

“Gonna go slow,” Poe promises. “…just to start off. Don’t wanna hurt you.”  


Even now, concerned for him. Kylo smiles, as fingers start prising his clothing away from his skin. He lifts his hands from Poe’s shoulders as things are tugged off, and then he grabs the bottom of Poe’s shirt and does the same. Up and over his head and to one side. Poe has to grab Kylo’s knee as he removes first one of his own boots, then the other, and then the socks. Kylo just kisses at the dip at the front of his neck, under his adam’s apple, tasting the salt-sweat tang. His hands slide over Poe’s sides, and then Poe’s shoving him onto his back and they land with a _whoomph_ and then there’s the part where he still has his **own** boots on and Poe is shimmying down over him, kissing at his chest until he’s kneeling at the foot of the bed, between Kylo’s parted legs, dragging his pants and boxers off and then the boots, too.

And Kylo is naked. Naked, and lying back on Poe’s bed, and Poe is shucking off the rest of his clothes, and _this is happening. This is happening_. His stomach trying to doe TIE-style maneouvers, his body so open for Poe’s gaze, and he watches his lover’s eyes intently, looking for the slightest hint of disapproval, or disgust. Looking for horror, or distaste. He sees nothing but a hungry, warm, care and that is like being punched in the gut. He moans, and squirms himself back into the bedding, trying to vanish in the firm mattress.

“Hey… babe…” Poe crawls back over him, and Kylo feels infinitely calmer when Poe isn’t examining him any more, just his face. “Shh. It’s okay.”  


 _I’m ugly_. He wants to say it, but he won’t. He won’t, in case the spell will break, the illusion shatter, and Poe… realise he could do **better**. 

“Maker, I love you,” Poe says, and puts one hand on the bed near Kylo’s head for support, the other holding his face still for more - softer - kisses. “You’re so incredible, Kylo. So beautiful. So caring.”  


Kylo isn’t sure how _I really would like your dick in my hole plus I love you_ counts as **caring** , but whatever. He cautiously hooks one ankle around his legs, and both arms around his shoulders. “I love you, too.” Easier, every time he says it. Easier by far. It still **hurts**. It hurts like hot hell. 

Poe tilts his head, and looks down at him. “How… how do you want to do this?”

Fuck. Fuck. Poe does know how it works, right? “I was thinking you’d stick your–”

A kiss stops him, and Poe rolls his eyes. “I meant: position, you nerf herder. You’re pretty - uh - flexible…”

Oh. _Oh_. Colour flushes to his face, and Kylo nods. “I… think I want to watch your face, when you…”

“…ughf…”   


Probably a good noise. Poe kisses him about ten thousand times more, and there’s nothing like the feel of his curls in his hands, and Kylo pulls both legs up and around Poe’s waist, making it clear he’s happy with this. Poe wriggles, and makes a grabby, open-handed gesture at the top of the bed. 

“Hmm?”  


“Pillow,” Poe says. “For your hips.”  


“Oh.” Kylo grabs one with the Force, not wanting to move his hands. It takes a bit of shuffling, but then he’s propped up, and his hips are angled, and… yeah. He just feels so freaking great. So, so great. And when Poe makes another grabby hand, he pulls the lube closer, too.  


“You have to tell me if it’s too much, okay? I mean. Seriously. Or I won’t do this, Kylo. No bullshit macho nonsense.”  


“If I want you to go slow, I will.” He wants it to be good. Maybe a bit of a sting, but not agony. He wants this to happen again, if it’s fun, and Poe won’t even consider it if things go badly. He’s too invested in future pleasure to fuck this up, and then there’s a Poe kneeling between his legs, knotted between Kylo’s thighs, and he watches as a hand vanishes between them.  


Between them, and then there’s a slick, soft, warm, wet feeling. Poe draws circles between his cheeks, making him whine and grab for another pillow, for something to put his hands on. It feels nice, like being stroked on the shaft or balls, but slightly different. And when the first inch of finger nudges in, he pants and puts the pillow over his mouth to muffle his scream. His scream, followed by a: “ _Please don’t fucking stop_.” 

He can’t see Poe’s face straight off, he has to lower the pillow. When he does, his lover’s eyes are twinkling with amusement, and his teeth glint in his smile. “You like that, babe?”

“What do you think?”  


“I think you want…” and Poe pushes his finger _deeper_ in, and Kylo screams into the pillow again.  


Louder. It feels so right, even if it shouldn’t. His body welcomes the intrusion, the - the - **penetration** (and he can think that word, now, because it’s happening). It’s a dull, strange fullness, and an aching for more. He definitely enjoys _this_ position, and if Poe ever wants to do it it again, he’ll-

“More?”  


Poe obliges, and a second finger goes in. They fuck him slowly, and the soft, squishy noises are so disgusting and right. Kylo’s hips move judderingly, trying to get **more** in him. Trying to get _deeper_. He bites into the pillow and screams even louder as a third finger goes in, reducing him to a writhing mess. It’s _so so so so so so so_ nice, but it isn’t what he **really wants** , and he clutches the pillow to his chest, hooking his ankles together behind Poe, and he makes sure their eyes lock.

“ **Fuck me, Poe. Fuck me. Fuck me HARD**.”

“With _pleasure_ ,” Poe says, and grabs that pillow Kylo has, tossing it to hit the wall. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you know you’re mine.”  


Poe isn’t often obviously jealous, not like Kylo is, and that one word - ‘mine’ - makes his throat croak over happiness, and he nods. Nods, and grabs Poe’s upper arms. His lover moves into place, and then there’s another pressure between his legs, and Kylo watches Poe’s eyes in rapture as he slides _in_ and _in_ and **home**. He’s much wider than his fingers, and it feels better because it’s _him_ , and because they’re doing it. Kylo _must_ have lost his damn virginity by now, because you don’t get a guy in your ass like this and still count as chaste, right?

He grabs Poe’s face, and drags him in for a kiss, to make up for the lack of a screaming pillow. Kisses him hiccupy and happily, and the rough, disjointed thrusts against - and into - his body are going to get him off way, way too fast. He whispers promises and gratitude against Poe’s lips, and he fights the first, threatening climax with all he has.

Not yet. Not _yet_. Not–

A hand - harsh - in his hair, and Poe’s eyes are unfocussed. “Gonna… gonna… come inside you, Kylo. Gonna… gonna…”

“Make me _yours_ ,” Kylo begs, offers, promises, needs, wants, knows. All of the above. All of it.  


Poe, fucking him. Fucking him raw and hungry and happy, and the far-away but **oh so present** look in his lover’s eyes. He nods, nods and Poe nods too, and then Poe grabs hold of Kylo’s cock and jerks it rough - just as rough as he does to himself - and Kylo **SCREAMS** as he comes, tensing around the dick buried in him, and everything feels so so so so - so… _right_. 

He comes, and he feels the way his body tenses around the cock still inside, and Poe follows him shortly after. Joins him by spurting deep and warm and _wet_ inside of Kylo, and Kylo watches the rapt expression on his boyfriend’s face, and he–

–grabs him for another, sloppy, thank-you kiss. 

“I love you,” he tells him, once again. Kylo’s eyes are stinging with how good he feels, and Poe looks similarly taken aback by their explosive love-making. They’re still panting, still joined, still… basking in the afterglow. 

It really does feel as good as he hoped it would. It does. Kylo moans at the after-sting, but it’s a good one. Clenches around the dick still inside him, and…

“So… you got any more ideas?” Poe asks.

Kylo laughs. “Ask me tomorrow.”

“I have to wait that long?”

“…give me half an hour, I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”   



End file.
